I do not think it is an accident that today is both Trinity Sunday and Father’s Day. My dad might have even said it was providential. The sermon this morning was about the Trinity and how within God’s very being there exists perfect relationship: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. That creation is an outpouring of that loving relationship. The sermon focused on Jesus, the Son, but today I couldn’t stop thinking about the Father and the Son – that relationship.
Father’s Day has always been a mixed bag for me. I’ve spent more of my life without a father than with one. At the same time, my father has marked me for life – it’s in my very name (“Jay’s son”). So I have an odd nostalgia for remembering my dad on this day. At the same time, for much of my life I have longed for a father-figure to fill the hole in my life that my dad’s death left. Now, I’m two years into being a dad (of a son and a daughter!), and that brings a whole new set of emotions and feelings to this day.
“Grandpa” – Missing My Father
I never thought about how having a son could make me miss my father even more. It really hit me when my wife and I realized we didn’t know what to call my dad when we talked to our son. My mom is “Nici” and my wife’s parents are “Nana” and “Papa”, but what do we call my dad? I wanted my dad to be part of my son’s life, but didn’t even know how to refer to him. There’s a grief that everyone else got to choose their “grandparent” name, but my dad didn’t. After some family group texts, we decided on “Grandpa”.
My son only knows what I tell him about his Grandpa. In a way, it’s like the Father and the Son. He’ll only know my father by looking at his son. (That was the focus of the sermon this morning: how we can only know God the Father through God the Son, Jesus). That’s a scary thought. I want to represent my dad well – but I also want to represent him accurately. He was a good man but he was not a perfect man (and he was nowhere near the third person of the Trinity). I want my son to know the whole of who my dad was (and is).
Having a Son – Becoming a Father
Having a son has actually done more for healing the grief over losing my dad than nearly anything I can think of. There are parts of me that are still the scared kid that didn’t know what to do about my dad’s death. There are parts of me that still need fathering. There are things I still want to hear my dad say. When I look at my son, I can imagine what my dad might tell me in a particular moment. I can feel his love and care for me, even if he can’t express it. My son doesn’t know the depths of my love for him. I can’t explain with words to him how much I delight in him – how much I treasure his belly laugh, how his much joy his brief “squeeze hugs” and “pats” bring me, how much I love his inquisitive nature and his love for learning. I get to tell him every day what I love in him and what I see in him. In a way, that brings me closer to my dad.
In his book, Return of the Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen talks about eventually needing to “become the father” in the story. It’s not just about being loved as a son (whether the elder or the younger son), it’s about being transformed into the welcoming father for others – that’s where real life and healing come from. I have long thought that finding a father-figure would finally heal my wound, but I’ve found much more healing in being a father.
The Father – Seeing God with New Eyes
But the biggest thing about being a father is how it has changed the way I view God – my Heavenly Father. The Father. It’s given me a whole new lens on my relationship with God. For some reason, for much of my life I’ve spent most of my life trying to do everything right and be as good a person as I can to please God. When I’ve sinned I’ve been devastated because I thought I disappointed God. I’ve constantly worried about making the right choices so God would approve of me. I think that’s one of the reasons I wanted to become a pastor – because it was the best, most spiritual thing to do. (I’ll give you a hint about that one from the inside: it’s not).
But when I look at my son, I just delight in him. Sure, I have hopes and dreams for him. I want him to become a particular sort of person. But the surprising thing is, I have a lot less of a specific path for him in my mind than I thought God had for me. Of course, as any good father I want him to love Marvel (and Euro board games and music and hiking and traveling), but I’m not going be disappointed in him if he – heaven forbid – likes DC Comics (or country music). I actually delight in what he delights in. I never thought I’d love construction vehicles so much – but now whenever I drive through construction I can’t help but think “Callum would love those dig digs and bull-bulls!”
Now I can see myself a bit through God’s eyes. He delights in me. He wants me to grow into a particular sort of person, but he’s far less concerned about the things I get worried about. He wants relationship and presence and he wants me to know how much he loves me. That’s what Trinity Sunday is all about – inviting us into relationship with God who overflows into his creation. A Father who sings over us (Zephaniah 3:17). A Father who delights in his children (Proverbs 3:12). A Father who wants to give good things to us (Matthew 7:11). A Father who is waiting for his kids to come home (Luke 15:20).